


make you fall

by rire



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Smut, dunks myself in a bucket of holy water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 01:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4809296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rire/pseuds/rire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He enjoys this feeling too much, this rare, delicious feeling of being the one to strip Akashi of his pride and to tear all shreds of Akashi’s composure apart with his bare hands.</p><p>(Or: In which Akashi initiates a contest of endurance with Midorima to see who can last longer in bed.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	make you fall

**Author's Note:**

> i have sinned

Midorima doesn’t remember how the situation escalated so quickly. Then again, Akashi has never been one to back down. He was in one of his moods again this morning, cranky and rather unpleasant, his left eye glinting alarmingly bright. It’s a sign that Akashi won’t back down until he gets what he wants. Usually Midorima would be more than willing to give that up, and yet.

 

And yet.

 

Here they are, Akashi pinning Midorima to the wall despite their height difference making the act almost comical. Midorima looks down at Akashi, exasperated, and Akashi looks back, eyes ablaze.

 

“I am absolute,” Akashi says. “It’s a simple truth. You cannot win against me, be it in basketball, shogi, or this.” He cocks his head- _try me_ \- and Midorima lets out a _tsk._ He tries to slip out from under Akashi’s arm, but Akashi only grips his wrist tight as a vice, eyes widening.

 

“We’re not doing this,” Midorima mutters, looking away, and Akashi laughs, sharp.

 

“You are afraid to lose.”

 

Midorima’s head whips back up, and he can’t help the way his eyes narrow. “I am not,” he says, squaring his shoulders. “I simply think it is a ridiculous thing to compete over.”

 

“You said that you would teach me defeat, didn’t you, Shintarou?” Akashi draws out the vowels of his name, voice poisonously sweet as he traces his fingers along Midorima’s jawline, making him shudder. “Didn’t you?”

 

Midorima grits his teeth. The tent in his pants is becoming much too obvious to ignore, and he knows he’ll lose control if this goes on. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

 

He’s much too aware that it’s the wrong thing to say even before Akashi laughs in his face. “You overestimate yourself.” Akashi fists a hand in the collar of his shirt and drags him down the hall. “You wouldn’t last long enough to cause me any damage.”

 

In that instant, Midorima, the reasonable man that he is, carefully weighs the benefits of logic versus pride. At least, that’s what he would like to say he did. What really happened was that instinct and desire seized control of him and he pinned Akashi down on the bed with such force that it shook.

 

“We’ll see about that.”

 

They gravitate towards one another in mutual understanding, ripping off buttons, licking each other hungrily and almost sloppily. Their clothes are off in no time, and in the split second Akashi takes to admire Midorima’s physique, Midorima takes off his tie and ties it, tight, around Akashi’s wrists and the bedpost.

 

“Oh,” Akashi says, an amused glint in his eyes. “You want it like this, do you. Afraid that you’ll come as soon as I touch you—”

 

He bites his lip and falls silent when Midorima tightens the knot so hard his skin goes white. They share a look for a moment before Midorima loosens the knot ever so slightly, just to give him breathing room.

 

“It’s called being resourceful,” Midorima responds simply, and Akashi smirks.

 

Midorima begins by trailing his hands down Akashi’s chest deliberately slow, tugging experimentally at a pert nipple with his teeth. Akashi lets out a sigh, and Midorima fights a smile. His victory was sealed the moment Akashi offered no resistance to his wrists being bound. When his hands reach Akashi’s crotch, he purposely avoids his cock. Instead, he coats his fingers with lube and takes his sweet time circling Akashi's entrance with his finger. He watches with fascination as Akashi's asshole tightens and he involuntarily brings his hips down against the tip of Midorima's finger, trying to take it inside of him. Barely suppressing a smirk, Midorima withdraws his finger. Akashi opens his mouth as if he’s going to complain, but thinks better of it. That childishly challenging look still remains in his eyes, but not for long.

 

"Are you sure you're going through with this?" Midorima asks for confirmation.

 

Akashi cracks a smile. It looks out of place considering the flush of his cheeks. "You think that's all it takes? Like I told you, you cannot win against me."

 

Midorima rolls his eyes and pushes two fingers inside Akashi, knuckle deep all at once, and Akashi's mouth falls open, his toes curling in the sheets. Midorima thrusts his fingers in and out, scissoring them and searching for that spot. Akashi bites down on his lip so hard it's white, and still he remains silent. Midorima hitches Akashi's thighs over his shoulder and pushes a third finger in, buries them up to the knuckle and curls them and—

 

" _Ah!_ " Akashi lets out a broken moan as a shiver runs through his body. Midorima smiles to himself and continues until Akashi is shaking and his wrists are struggling violently against the restraints.

 

"It's not too late to give up," Midorima reminds him, and judging by the fact that Akashi still has the energy to shoot him a glare, Midorima can definitely keep going.

 

He picks up the pace, thrusting his fingers relentlessly and repeatedly brushing against Akashi's prostate until Akashi finally comes with a loud cry, his walls clenching tight around Midorima's fingers as he spills his load all over his own stomach.

 

"I think we're done here," Midorima says, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the sheets. He temporarily ignores his own erection, because if Akashi falls for this, it will get taken care of eventually.

 

"Don't make me laugh," Akashi says, but his voice is already breathy and somewhat hoarse. "You'll be worn out before you exhaust me."

 

He could be surprisingly predictable. Midorima wants to laugh, but instead he admires the sight of Akashi splayed out on the bed, the stark black tie standing out against the pale skin of his arms, chest rising and falling heavily.

 

"You shouldn’t worry too much about me," Midorima notes casually. "Worry about yourself first." He undresses himself and positions himself against Akashi's ass.

 

"Don't flatter yourself. And don't tire yourself out," Akashi says, condescending as ever, and it's that tone of voice that makes Midorima pull away.

 

"You're absolutely right, I should conserve my energy." Midorima flips Akashi onto his stomach, and Akashi lets out an annoyed groan.

 

"Don't talk back to me—"

 

And then he trails off into a moan as Midorima presses the tip of his tongue against Akashi's entrance.

 

"Oh," Akashi breathes. "Oh— oh God."

 

 _Yeah_ , Midorima thinks to himself, licking further inside of Akashi and gripping his ass cheeks tightly to keep them apart. He feels Akashi's shudder, feels his walls tense around his tongue, and hears Akashi's strangled cry vibrate in the pit of his stomach.

 

"Shintarou," Akashi says, his voice paper thin. He's nearing the edge already, and Midorima feels a tinge of pride. He keeps going until Akashi's hips start to jerk forward of their own accord, humping the bedsheets in desperate need of release. Midorima holds him still, ignoring Akashi's whine of protest, and closes his hand around Akashi's cock. He jerks him off in time with each thrust of his tongue.

 

Every muscle in Akashi's body is taut and he's biting down so hard on his lip Midorima is worried the skin will break. "You know, you can just say the word," he says casually. Akashi clenches his hands into fists and stubbornly remains quiet until Midorima slides his thumb over the slit, and then he lets out a choked gasp and spurts all over Midorima's hand.

 

He's a panting, writhing mess by the end of his second orgasm, head buried in the pillow. His ass is in the air, still glistening wet with lube and spit and Midorima wants nothing more than to grab on tight and fuck him into oblivion.

 

"F-fuck," Akashi pants, his voice hoarse, and Midorima wastes no time. He positions himself at Akashi's entrance and pushes all the way inside, groaning low in his throat because it feels so _good_. Akashi is still so tight around him, still so hot, and the way Akashi's voice breaks when he moans with abandon is even hotter.

 

Midorima pumps his hips forward, revelling in the way Akashi's voice has shifted an entire octave. The whimpers that escape his lips are strained and harsh, like he can barely keep himself together. _That's good,_ Midorima thinks. That's exactly what he wants.

 

He pulls out and turns Akashi around again to see his face, and his dick gives an involuntary twitch. Somehow, Akashi still manages to look like a work of art, cheeks stained red as if blotted with a paintbrush, tears glistening in his eyes and body trembling. Midorima pushes in again all at once, and Akashi groans, all ragged and desperate and turning Midorima on beyond belief. He thrusts harder, relentlessly and almost mercilessly, until the broken moans that ring in his ears and the burn of the friction becomes too much. He comes, biting down on Akashi's shoulder and letting out a muffled cry.

 

Akashi follows almost immediately after. There's hardly anything left— his body tenses up and his knuckles go white as a sheet but only a small spurt of white liquid comes out. He's practically wrung dry. Midorima licks his lips absentmindedly as he pulls out. Akashi's shaking hard now as if his body were being jerked on a string. Midorima leans down and licks off the sheer layer of sweat that covers Akashi's chest, ignoring Akashi's protesting whine. Akashi's cock is flushed scarlet; unable to resist, Midorima reaches out a finger and teases the head gently. Even that simple action is enough to make Akashi's legs squeeze shut as he throws his head back and screams. His breathing is hurried yet laboured, and it looks as if he's on the edge of hyperventilating. Midorima burns, burns with so much desire it threatens to swallow him whole.

 

He keeps going, thrusting into the tight heat despite his own cock growing oversensitive. Akashi's voice breaks, a strained and almost soundless moan. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but can't.

 

Midorima guesses he's just about ready to surrender. Good thing he still has a card up his sleeve.

 

He leans down and lets his teeth graze the sensitive spot just below Akashi's ear as he pushes in again. It's as if he's flipped a switch; Akashi's back arches off the bed and he sobs like it's been torn out of him. _"Sh-Shintarou-!"_

 

"Do you remember what you said earlier?"

 

Akashi's head jerks to the other side.

 

"'I am absolute,'" Midorima quoted, keeping his voice deliberately low. "You said that yourself, didn’t you?" Midorima says, gripping Akashi by the hips so tight he's sure they'll bruise. "Didn’t you?" he repeats, with more severity.

 

Akashi sobs again, his body folding in on itself. "Stop," he rasps. _"S-stop."_

 

Midorima does as told— he stops, still buried to the hilt inside Akashi. The sensation becomes even more torturous for him. His eyes go wide and then squeeze shut as his mouth falls open, arms struggling hopelessly against the tie.

 

"Don't!" Akashi screams, and Midorima smirks to himself.

 

"Not so absolute anymore, are you."

 

Akashi thrashes his head from side to side, tears spilling out the corner of his eyes and mixing with the drool on the pillow. "No," he begs, voice cracking. "I-I'm not. Please, please—"

 

Now _that's_ what he wants to hear. Midorima pulls out, excruciatingly slow, because he enjoys this feeling too much, this rare, delicious feeling of being the one to strip Akashi of his pride and to tear all shreds of Akashi’s composure apart with his bare hands. "Please what?"

 

Akashi shakes his head again, much too far gone to even string together a coherent sentence, his body convulsing repeatedly as if he were being given electric shocks. "Please, please, _please_ ," he repeats like a mantra, followed by a scream as Midorima thrusts in and hits his abused prostate once again.

 

"Please what? Stop? Or keep going?"

 

"Can't," Akashi rasps, crying in earnest now, and Midorima has never seen anything so erotic, so vulnerable, so, so gorgeous. "I can't- take- this- anymore—"

 

Midorima pulls out, finally, relishing the desperate whimper that escapes Akashi's lips. He shifts forward and strokes himself right above Akashi, the delicious sight of him driving Midorima insane.

 

"Look at you," Midorima pants, his hand speeding up. "You're a mess." It doesn't take much to bring himself to orgasm again, and when he comes, he manages to keep his eyes just open enough to see Akashi open his mouth and catch Midorima's come on his tongue. Midorima watches raptly as it drips out the corner of his mouth and down his chin.

 

"Seijuurou," he says, incredulously. “You’re so—”

 

Akashi groans, finally letting his eyes fall shut. He lies there, used and spent, red all the way to the tips of his ears and even splotches on his neck, trembling like crazy, chest still rising and falling, hungry for breath and respite.

 

"You're so beautiful like this."

 

Akashi whimpers and tries to bury his face in the pillow, only to give up halfway as if he didn't have to energy to perform the simple action. Midorima feels a slight pang of guilt and presses a gentle kiss to Akashi's forehead, wondering if he went too far.

 

"You okay?" he murmurs into Akashi's hair. It's sticky with sweat and smells like sex. Midorima loves it. Akashi doesn't— can't— reply. "Let's get you cleaned up."

 

"Can't move," Akashi hisses.

 

"Wait here, then," Midorima says. He heads over to the bathroom, wets a towel, and comes back. Akashi hasn't moved at all. He climbs on the bed and begins to wipe gently at the come drying on Akashi's ass, but stops when Akashi cries out, fisting his hands in the bedsheets, much too sensitive even for this. Midorima mutters an apology and sets the towel aside. He lies down next to Akashi, careful not to move too much, and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

 

"I hate you," Akashi says, barely audible. "So much." But he leans his head ever so slightly closer to Midorima’s chest, so that Midorima knows the words mean something else entirely. Perhaps, he thinks vaguely to himself, perhaps Akashi had not intended to win in the first place, and a part of him had needed this after all.

 

"I know," Midorima replies, smiling to himself. "I know."

  



End file.
